El Dorado...in Quito

    We listened to a concert by the Sinfónica Nacional de Ecuador inside the La Iglesia de la Compañía de Jesús, the church which is most famous for having its interior completely covered in gold leaf. The program included “Iberia” by Isaac Albéniz, which was very sweet, especially El Puerto. There were works by Manuel de Falla and Claude Debussy, all with a distinctively Spanish flavour to them, and two short works by Ecuadorian composer Claudio Aizaga. It was conducted well by a fairly young woman named Nathalie Marin (not the only young female conductor on their roster), and the orchestra played with passion and spirit, and with great technical skill. Ecuador can be proud of them. The church was filled with quite a high ratio of foreign culture freaks, mind you.

    The church is fascinating.  I learned a little bit of history about the Jesuits from John and from Jean - Jean was the one who invited us...local culture maven, she is...and many of her circle of friends were there. We also met Jeff, an engineer who is on his way to Malingua Pamba after a period of language study.

    The Jesuits did laudable mission work until the Pope tossed them out of Latin America and closed all their missions, giving them five days to exit. Originally the Jesuits believed in plain and simple churches, and a simple, self-sacrificing lifestyle, so I had trouble reconciling the gold leaf in the church (Jean says the only comparable one she's ever seen is in Brazil), but Jean pointed out that the local people brought gold as offering. They had so much of it, and it appeared to be something the Spaniards treasured.  They shipped it back to Spain in large quantities.  The Jesuits melted some of the offerings down, and workmen hammered it into gold leaf and applied it to the inside of the church. (Oddly enough, I didn't notice the presence of any armed guards...the electronics store beside the fountain had one in khaki with a submachine gun at the door last weekend!)

    There are many websites that tell the history of the Jesuits in Latin America, and one becomes sympathetic to their cause and their plight when reading them. There's also a great movie from 1986 called The Mission which one could probably rent or watch online.

    John described how the Jesuits would entice indigenous peoples in from the jungle by going out into a clearing and playing music. Turns out, some of the tribes they encountered had natural musical gifts. They were drawn to the new religion through the music, and there were indigenous choirs who sang in Spanish and in Latin. They learned to make western instruments that were prized in Europe, and recently a trunk full of music manuscript was found that contained original compositions, many written by indigenous musicians. Some of that music, John marvelled, has already found its way into the European repertoire and is being played there - he enjoyed a concert at Picadilly Circus some years back which included some of these indigenous compositions. I was reminded of the church choirs all through southern Africa who sing western choral harmonies and put the Welsh to shame, in spite of having no such choral tradition in their own music.

    It's a surprising world, with many sorts of golden experiences in it. Walking home through the old city, with little traffic and hardly anyone on the streets, the air had cleared somewhat from the day, and the buildings are very beautiful at night. During the day the air quality is truly awful - some street corners where buses converge, including the foot of our street, are as bad as Karachi when I was there thirty years ago. There are trucks that will leave their engines running for long periods outside the open windows of the hostel, like they never would if fuel was taxed more heavily and cops handed out tickets for idling. But even with all of that, when the sun shines, this is a pretty part of town.

    In my last diary entry I mentioned that we had a nice farewell dinner with Jeannie last night, prepared by Maggie. One interesting observation was that Jeannie agrees with Dustin about preferring Colombia to Ecuador, and says making friends in Ecuador is difficult (she's been here a year now).  The people are gracious and polite with old world dress and manners, but they don't socialize outside of their families, and they seem quite xenophobic and disinterested in the world outside their borders. That would jibe with my observation that Couchsurfing is largely a bust here - and even worse in Cusco, Peru, where the site has been co-opted almost entirely by people simply trying to sell rooms in their homes as "hostels". Dustin and Jeannie both expressed a preference for Colombia, and Medellin in particular. Perhaps Deb and I will plan another trip to check that city out in an upcoming winter.

    Like Carole King, "I felt the earth...move...under my feet". We experienced a Richter 6.9 earthquake, half a minute of rocking, with the epicentre just over 300 kilometres north of here, near the town of Pasto, Colombia. and 13 kms down. 

    We had a nice final visit with Any before she served us a merienda and drove us to the airport for our red-eye to Lima and our connection to Cusco. We saw the broken front window on the floor above hers where Edwin's parents' pressure cooker exploded a four few days ago, putting a hole through their kitchen table and metal fragments through the kitchen. They think the pressure escape valve must have been clogged with food. It's amazing that no-one was injured. If you own and use one, be sure to check that the escape valve is clear and working every time you use it.

Next: Cusco

Rain, rain, rain...and finally sun, again

    We woke up Monday to astonishing rain. The sky is gray, and we are socked in. Sometimes the rain is really heavy, and it continued through the following night and into Tuesday. We tried to go next door to the San Blas church which the guide book says is open until noon and has significant tapestries as well as history, but they politely told us they don't do tourists - come back Tuesday for mass, if we want. 

    We walked a block up the hill instead, to the Basilica, an impressive building that legend says will never be completed. Sure enough, some sort of maintenance issue which we never saw evidence of had the entry price slashed in half. There were about a hundred stained glass windows, about half of them illustrating scenes from the life of Christ. There were uniquely Ecuadorian gargoyles around the outside - crocodiles, snakes, pangolins, monkeys, panthers, anteaters and many more indigenous animals - and alcoves for remains of some saints and doll-like effigies of others, with tables for devotional candles so that people can pray to their favourites, including the Virgin of Guadelajara, who is here on a visit, apparently.  The Basilica deserves its own photo album.

    When we got back to the hostel we were about to watch Cat in the Hat in Spanish. We haven't seen the English version, but since Roberto studied the bilingual book with me a couple of weeks ago, it seemed appropriate. Suddenly the hostel door bell rang, just as I was composing a reply email to Jean Brown, and there she was at the door. She lives only two short blocks above the basilica we'd walked to earlier. We had a chat in the common room and were able to introduce her to Dustin, who is staying at the Belmont as well for a few days before heading to Cuenca. She ended up inviting us to her condo so that Dustin could indulge his love of cooking and we could meet her friend Olivia.

    At 5 p.m. Deb and Dustin and I stepped out into the rain to go to the local market for ingredients. Our first challenge was fencing with the taxi drivers, who appear to consider the combination of rain and gringos a godsend. For a ride that would ring up 60 cents on the meter, we expected to pay the minimum $1 charge, but the first guy, outrageously, asked for $5! The next three demanded $3, and we finally settled on one driver who was willing to take us there for $2. These are all metered, placarded, officially licenced city taxis, mind you, for whom this is supposed to be illegal, and most connected by radio to their dispatch offices - apparently there's no enforcement, no sting officers or any other way to discourage the practice. You gouge for whatever you can get, with the blessing of your dispatcher. Going an even shorter distance from the market to Jean's was just as bad, until a private car honked and pulled over for us, and volunteered to take us there for a $1.50. Dustin tells us that he found that Colombian taxis were all strictly by the meter and all their goods and services prices are firm for everyone, local and tourist alike; they have been trying hard to correct a very bad image with tourists that built up over the past few decades. Ecuador seems to be happy to let their image as a tourist destination slide.

    At the market, we immediately found some incredible pork chops (much less risky than beef, which is typically very tough in S. America), and we also bought cauliflower and sweet red peppers for roasting, tomato, cucumber, avocado and red onion for a salad treat, and a pineapple. Jean made a rice dish with turmeric and other spices, and put wine and beer on the table. It was a delicious meal that we all prepared together under Chef Dustin's command, and afterward we sat in Jean's sitting room and talked about books, their families, and aspects of life in Ecuador over a little rum and coffee. 

    We walked home around ten through clear night air cleaned by the rain, downhill all the way along steep cobble streets and staircases built before there were cars in the city, through a neighbourhood gateway with the date 1929 on it, and out onto Calle Guayaquil, right across the Hermano Miguel Plaza from the Belmont.

    I got up shortly after seven this morning and went up to the rooftop kitchen to make a coffee. Elena hadn't been up to unlock doors yet, but the door to the terrace had a padlock that wasn't open so I just slid back the bolt and stepped out onto the roof. A terribly loud car alarm went off beside my ear and continued for about sixty seconds. It was on a motion detector. I ignored it, went to the kitchen and pulled loose the little piece of string that was tying that door shut, and made my coffee. Nobody scolded me, so all is good. It is a quiet, very secure hostal, not a party place at all, which is one of the reasons it is so cheap - perfect for us.

    The friends we were going to stay with again today had to bail on us. Any had said she wanted to explore the idea of sending Ecuadorian crafts and garments to Canada, and I wanted Edwin to consider making regalia clothing for the yacht clubs in Toronto, of which there are dozens, as well as tennis clubs and schools - team sports clothing, etc. He was messing around with the idea of making Univ. of Toronto shirts, but that's small potatoes compared to the market that really exists. However, Any says her mother is ill in Ibarra (her mother has Alzheimer's) and they're having another water issue in their house, this time from a broken pipe, perhaps caused by the pressure cooker that exploded in Edwin's parents' apartment. 

    When we were there the previous time they'd had a flood when the water line to Edwin's mother's frig (for the icemaker) had broken, and nobody caught the problem it until ran down to Edwin's floor. Edwin's mother's eyesight is almost gone. 

    We'll be here until Saturday, which makes me happy - staying in the Mall Jardin area seemed like a boring location to spend our last four days in Quito. Deb became very fond of Any, they got along well, and I think that's why she was really hoping we could stay with them again, but we feel quite relaxed and autonomous here at the Belmont, so for me it's not such a disappointment - except for the fact that I wanted to show Any how much Spanish I can speak now. I wasn't sure they'd be that keen to host us again - they'd already extended our first stay when our second host fell through two months ago. But no matter - we remain grateful for their hospitality and their welcome to Quito when we first arrived, and we hope we'll be able to reciprocate when they visit their son in Toronto, and help Aaron to feel at home there.

    We attended a dance performance of Tatuaje by the Ballet Nacional de Ecuador at the cultural centre. Not a great conception or choreography, but it was mercifully short, and in a very modern theatre. I was interested to notice how many young people came out to watch modern jazz ballet. We went with Jean Brown and her friend Richard. The vice-president was in attendance, a very big deal for most of the audience; and I was reminded that we have a contact in his office, a women we were supposed to stay with who works directly with him running a wheelchair distribution program - a bit odd to run such a program directly out of the VP's office, but I guess it must be very good VP PR.

    Tomorrow we'll start the day with a great coffee - found a place nearby that knows how to make a really good cup. Then we'll attend a botanical water colour exhibit nearby with Jean, and then search out a new diversion for the evening.

    Thursday: finally a sunny morning, so we climbed to the top of the hill above Los Rios to get a decent photographic view of the city. There are a few photos here. In the evening we headed to the famous church with all the gold leaf that usually costs about $7 to go inside, but they'd scheduled a free concert by the Ecuador Symphony, so entry was free to the church as well.  With all the lights it was quite stunning.  More about that in the next blog.

    On Friday had a farewell dinner with Jeannie, Maggie and Zoey. On Saturday we left for Lima and Cusco. 

    I did put out feelers to try and meet Quitenos on Couchsurfing - you'd think that would be the most logical place to find people who want to meet visitors from other countries. But Couchsurfing seems to be largely a bust here. People seem generally nervous of strangers, and don't really understand or buy the concept, although there are many members listed in the city.  My impression from my initial inquiries two months ago is that most hope it'll be useful to them if they travel themselves, but aren't that keen to host. Maybe most believe that they have little chance to travel anyway, and so the reciprocity concept doesn't quite gel for them, and they don't really want to open their home to strangers. We've had hosts who said "maybe" and then backed out. 

    In Cusco there are several who are simply blatantly advertising their hostels on the couchsurfing site. We can't even find people in Quito willing to meet for coffee and chat, as ambassadors of their city - they seem remarkably xenophobic, actually - as if the design of their houses, bulwarked and locked to the street with the courtyards as private as possible in the interior, are a mirror of their souls. The experience is very interesting, and has helped to reframe my generalized perceptions of S. American people and their values. Mind you, in the course of doing business with them, you meet many very gracious people, and Ecuadorians pride themselves on conservative dress and values; but for a rather socialist country, they appear to be actually more capitalist in personal values than Canada or other countries we've visited. Maybe they are socialist politically, hoping that it'll increase the amount of chicken in every pot, but not personally.

Next: El Dorado in Quito

Blogging from the Belmont

    The last two days have been a bit overcast, but the photos are here.

    The Hostal Tiana in Latacunga has been taken over by an Ecuadorian family, who are digging out the floor of their lobby.  Deb says it's to create more storage for helmets and climbing gear, I guess so that they can turn the ground floor storage room into an extra rentable bedroom. We cat-walked over a board to get to our room, as you'll see in the photo. However, they appear to be trying to gouge the naive young European travellers to pay for the excavation. 

    We arrived early and they invited us to have breakfast but didn't post a price or tell us about a price, so we thought they were just being nice, but they charged us for it the next day - wrote $2 each on the bill, then suddenly as Deb was ready to pay the lady scratched it out and wrote $2.50 each! Deb complained and said she'd happily pay a reasonable extra charge, but how could the price have gone up another 50 cents in the day since she'd arrived? This is not accounting-based pricing, but prices levied at the whim and caprice of the owner and staff. And mind you, this is for two croissants, a banana, juice and coffee, a breakfast meal that costs about 40 cents to set out here in Ecuador and wouldn't cost much more than that in Canada. The owner reimbursed her, said he "didn't want her to be unhappy"; but how many other younger customers are just walking away unhappy without having the moxie to complain like Deb did? Young travellers with a bad taste in their mouths don't use those same mouths to spread positive word of mouth advertising, do they?

    25 days ago if you'd wanted to add an egg that costs 7 1/2 cents at the market to your breakfast you would have paid 50 cents (we did); but the price has now doubled to $1 per egg! They're rather clueless, obviously. A New Zealand guy who was working there for his last day said they've barely sold two or three eggs in total in the weeks since the price increase, and they used to sell five or six each morning at the lower price. He said someone asked for extra jam (1 cent worth, comes from a bucket, gets put in a tiny dish) and they tried to charge him 30 cents; another girl asked for a bit of milk for her cereal - they have milk for coffee, but not for drinking as milk - and was refused. "It's only for the coffee", they said. "But I don't drink coffee", she said, "so couldn't I simply have the portion of milk I've paid for with my breakfast in my cereal instead?" "No", was the reply. That's the ridiculous direction that things are headed. You'd think that at the very least they'd have a few extra milk cartons to sell to young travellers who want to start the day with their favourite granola cereal, but I guess they'd increase the price fifteen times for that too, so maybe that wouldn't be a helpful suggestion!

    I'm beginning to suspect that the dominant theme of doing business in Ecuador, especially where tourists are concerned, is: "killing the goose that lays the golden egg". My friend Arnd found the same thing thirty years ago when doing trade with Brazilian companies, and more recently, in Peru. Here, even the "official" taxis with registered plates and placards, for whom it is supposed to be illegal to operate off the meter, consistently demand a cash price 50% to 100% higher than we know the trip will cost. We sometimes go through four "legal" taxis before finding one who is willing to turn on his meter for us. After 8 p.m., they all turn off their meters and just charge as much as they can get away with. The taxis do themselves out of business by consistently trying to gouge; a lot of visitors simply get used to the bus and trole system, instead. We're comfortable on the buses and troles, as long as we're not carrying anything pick-pocketable, and the fare is only a quarter.

    When I visit a country with a stronger currency than ours, I pay more just for that reason, and I get more in myriad benefits of being in a stronger economic climate.  When I visit a country with a weaker currency than ours, there are reasons for that weaker currency.  A lower quality of goods and services, and infrastructure to match, generally.  Among other things, consider lungs full of thick black diesel exhaust every time you walk up the street; no street cleaning, and no tax on fuel to pay for these things; but also think low input costs for food - low labour, and low fuel cost for delivery. I don't expect to have to pay double, triple or quintuple the going rate just because I'm from a country with a stronger currency. That stronger currency rests on superior business and trade ethics, a strong work ethic, much higher taxes, and good social management of health care, public health and safety, world class education, public and social service, not merely random good fortune; but that's very hard to explain. Canada has raw resources, but so does Ecuador. In Canada there are people who earn a terribly high salary compared to Ecuadorians, who yet cannot afford to retire early or to travel because of a much higher cost of living, higher taxation and fewer ways to avoid it, and an inability to live below their means and save their money. Odd though it is when you think about it, many of them are former Ecuadorians and other South Americans. Go figure.  There are hidden benefits to living under economic policy like ours.

    In Quito we thought we were going to connect with Any and Edwin, because we think of them as our friends in Quito now, but they were unable to connect and co-ordinate with us last night because they are very busy with family visiting from Ibarra and from the U.S. We arranged to stay at the nearby Hostal Ecokarmel initially because Any wanted to work with Deborah on the idea of selling Ecuadorian crafts in Toronto, but the prospect of staying on the shelf in that hostal for three days wasn't very appealing.

    The Ecokarmel used to be owned by Edwin's father. However, it is triple the price of our other downtown choice, and it is in a part of town with not much to appeal to tourists. We'd already seen and done what there is to see and do there a month ago. They jacked up the price over what they'd told us in December, which annoyed us; then we endured ridiculously weak wifi in spite of being put in a room on the first floor closest to the router at the front desk (which I had to reset before we could get any connection at all), but the only consistent connection is in our bathroom sitting on the can! 

    We endured the noise of the manager and his friends hollering (their normal speaking voices, apparently) in an echo chamber lobby all evening with the sound reverberating up the stairs and through our front door. Our room wasn't the one they'd showed us in December.  This one has grotty carpet and peeling paint.  The whole building is run down and there are customers with painted ladies who rent their rooms by the hour. They couldn't find us a key for hours after we'd moved into our room, which always triggers alarm in me - an obvious security risk.  Our door showed signs of recently being jimmied and someone walked by and tried the door handle in the morning to see if it was unlocked...I'd just stepped out of the shower, so whoever it was would've been repelled by the vision of full frontal nudity that confronted him!

    No hot water for shaving in the sink, no mat for the bathroom floor. Cockroaches in the communal kitchen off the lobby were no surprise given the mess of unwashed dishes, open jam and other food containers, and half-finished food in open pots. 

    We'd rather stay with the "hippies", quite frankly: savvy fellow travellers.  So we moved this morning to The Belmont, which is a very funky old building right next to Quito's most famous hostel The Secret Garden, which the Ecokarmel has the nerve to match in price.  The next door Belmont has "old-Quito" charm and is just as comfortable as its more famous neighbour - lacking the restaurant, but it has its own rooftop terrace with a partial view that is almost as nice as the Secret Garden view, which is famous. 

    You get to meet other travellers (currently mostly French and Japanese, also German, British, and American), get advice on things to see and do in Quito, and it is in a much older and more interesting part of the city. You can walk up a set of stairs that you'll see in the photo album, and get an even more amazing view than the Secret Garden boasts.  Guayaquil street and the surrounding neighbourhood are loaded with small, inexpensive restaurants and other stores.  I found a decent pair of shoes to replace my worn out runners. 

    The Belmont has everything the Ecokarmel has, and more, in a more interesting neighbourhood.  We were given a "matrimonial" room with a private bath at a third of the price we'd paid the night before. Dustin stayed in a room next door, paid $6 a night for his private room with a double bed and a private bath. It's run by a cheerful hard-working Russian lady named Elena, who spends her entire long day in rubber gloves, cleaning - the place looks old, but smells clean, unlike the Ecokarmel. In addition to the rooftop terrace which has tables and its own little kitchen and BBQ, there is a large ground floor common room with an 18 foot ceiling, two armchairs and a sectional couch for seven, a sizeable book exchange, a shelf of free DVD movies to watch on the TV, and a guitar that anyone may pick up and play. I did. Nice touch.

    There are, however, delicious meals in small family owned lunch restaurants (I can't figure out why some are only open such short hours - can't make any money on breakfasts and dinners?) with posted prices that are the same for locals and tourists, as they are in Canada, and as they should be everywhere. We've paid from $1.25 to $6 a meal, but usually somewhere in the middle. Our breakfast one morning was an egg, two tortillas, juice and darn good coffee for the price, with milk (or you can have chocolate) for $1.25, in Quito, in a tourist area, just at the foot of the street from the foreigners' hostels. Food is usually quite tasty here and you don't have to haggle about the prices, as you do with taxis. We have a favourite coffee shop across the street, a bit upscale, the Cafe Alhambra - $2.90 for really good coffee, a giant cookie for me and a slice of cake for Deb.

    At the foot of the street from the Belmont is the Hermano Miguel Plaza, which has a lovely living wall featuring a mosaic of plants, and a water jet fountain that many Quito children and older kids have a lot of fun playing in on a hot day. I took a few photos of that, couldn't help myself - great photos just happen naturally when people play with water. You have to be constantly on your guard though; in spite of the policemen standing around keeping an eye out for it, there are people constantly watching you and shadowing you, and there's a lot of robbery of the more naive gringos. You need to maintain a "spidey-sense", like in a school playground. But there are lovely plazas and statues nearby, and other great photographs waiting to be taken. Around the corner is the Plaza San Blas, although the statue in my photo seems more a saint of children than the 12th century original - probably Saint Brother Miguel.

    We hope we'll be staying with Any and Edwin for our final few days in Quito, before flying on to Cusco via Lima. I'd like to see how we can help them get established in Canada if that's what they decide to do.  We expect to be connected with them through Aaron for the years he is at the University of Toronto campus in Scarborough. We're looking forward to being part of his "support team" away from home.  I'm guessing he'll be a little homesick by the time we get there in April, and ready to get out and go sailing this summer, and to see more of Toronto as spring blossoms. We hope to host Any and Edwin when they come to visit him in the fall, too.

Next: Rain, and a visit to the never finished Basilica

Last thoughts, Parthian shots

    Today we attempted to take charge. We put Dustin to work with the grade tens, doing math and logic. Ignacio was already giving the eights the heaviest phys ed workout I've seen here yet, with really hard exercises and a long run of many laps of the school complex; maybe he figured that would tire them out and settle them down for the morning - that's what I would have done. We asked the nines if they'd be willing to work with the 2/3/4's, and a couple of them smiled eagerly, so Deb got them set up in that room, and we took the sevens to the computer lab for some serious Duolingo time. They're getting better at it, and able to focus for longer periods of time. 

    Duolingo is similar to the individual French language labs I first experienced at university, where every student got to work at their own speed, and each was fully engaged, rather than watching a teacher interact with one student at a time. The only pain is that we get frequent instances where Deb has created email accounts for the kids to register and they have written their new email addresses and passwords carefully in their notebooks, and yet are unable to log on on subsequent days. We still haven't figured out that little problem. One workaround is to have Duolingo send the recorded password back to their newly created yahoo mail account in order to find out if it was entered correctly.

    With all this coverage, Bolivar the teacher got a little break, and was happy about it. He's been here all week while the other teachers have been in town. I asked if he had signed his contract, and he said no, the lines were way too long to bother, and he'd do it on Friday when vacation started. That's commitment. 

    We've been wondering why the other teachers knew well enough to get their exams completed the week before they walked away on Monday, but Marcelo didn't know enough to get a letter ready for the parents. We've wondered why Rosa, who we'd been told has a permanent contract like Marcelo, has been absent all week as well. We've wondered who takes attendance of the teachers, many of whom have had multiple absences just since we've been here; what accounting office checks to see if they're really ill, or docks pay for unexplained and unauthorized absences? Who reports it? How easy would it be for the one who ought to report it to take a little kickback to ignore it - say, a portion of that day's pay from the teacher who is off double-dipping somewhere else, like Ignacio on market days with his little truck? We've heard several stories about Manuela's and Rosa's absences that barely hold water. Obviously these questions are for someone else to answer, but one can't avoid entertaining them.

    Manuela the sister/daughter-in-law, perhaps the most extreme offender, finally dropped over to the computer lab yesterday and asked Deborah for some tips on how to continue the English instruction after we leave. Deb gave her our Meet and Greet chart and explained Duolingo, but I wasn't sure if Manuela was actually there more to get some internet signal, quite frankly. And oddly, her parting request to Deborah was, "Can you teach them lots of English tomorrow? The Ministry is going to be checking up soon on how much the students have learned." Yeesh! We're supposed to fill in her deficiencies? In a day? Even 25 days could barely do more than scratch the surface, especially considering the weekends, our "tour" and the market day, and the days we were following up on other issues for Pamelita.

    Deb had it out with Ignacio this morning; she'd been stewing quietly about his "tour" since we had it and she felt so ripped off (me too), and she finally said she couldn't leave here without telling him how she felt. When he looks at me I'm sure I see dollar signs in his eyeballs. He's a real gouging opportunist who has no shame in asking a high price for something and then not delivering on his promise. When she told him, "instead of asking for $20 extra, you should have offered to return at least $20!" He was shamed into at least returning the $20 extra charge he'd imposed on her. She tried to explain to him how volunteers feel if they feel they've been duped or cheated; Dustin also complained about that just before he left. He claims that Colombia is much more straightforward, there's clear and up front pricing even for tourists, meters that are actually employed in taxis, etc.  Since he's arrived in Ecuador he's felt that everyone he meets wants to overcharge him because he's a gringo.

    Dustin seems unlikely to return, sadly. He knows local food and restaurant prices as well as we do, and has travelled for a decade in Asia and now in South America. He calculates that the three meals Elvia puts in front of us cost her no more than $2 a day, and he's unhappy to pay $12; he was happy at the last hostel where he paid $18 but ate well and enjoyed his surroundings and the creature comforts of that facility. He says, "this place can't really be described as a hostel by Colombian or Ecudadorian standards...maybe a very run down dormitory, at best". He wants three eggs for breakfast and meat for lunch and dinner, and he knows that three eggs at the market only cost 23 cents ($2.80 for a flat of 36), that you can serve a heaping plate of potatoes, plantains and rice for a quarter, that beef is under $2 a pound (often pretty tough, mind you), etc. He feels that serious educational volunteers are only going to be taken advantage of here, and commented that the Ecuadorian Volunteers Association had discontinued recommending this destination. He was excited about the students when he first arrived, but doesn't want to starve in the process; at his age and size and with the energy he expends with the kids (he's extremely fit and enjoys teaching them physical skills), his daily nutrition needs are larger than ours, and even ours haven't been met to our satisfaction over the past 25 days. It's a shame, because he turns on like a light bulb when surrounded by kids, and they really find him fascinating.

    I haven't said anything about Alcides yet. He was an enigma to me for a while, with a blue bus that only runs on Fridays, while his three brothers and one sister-in-law are pulling down salaries at the school. Riding his bus last Friday, watching him at the market, and later doing four of his order invoices for him (he said he'd lost his calculator) solved the mystery. Although there's a letter lying around from the Ministry informing him that he's not actually qualified to drive his bus, he leaves very early on Friday morning and goes to the market. He comes back late at night, and if there's a roadblock, as William encountered last week, he leaves even later and takes the backroads, getting home at 1 a.m. last week. He does a six hour return run once a week, picks up passengers along the way who cover the cost of his diesel and more, and family members ride in and out for free, usually in order to help with the purchases and the sorting into bins for schools and other customers. His mark-up is a consistent 100% on every item I've seen on the orders. He does pre-orders, and stocks his store for anticipated walk-in trade through the week, plus an enormous volume of Pilsener and cane liquor happily disguised in Pilsener bottles - sells the Pilsener for $2 and the cane liquor for $1. Bolivar says the cane liquor is made in a real factory, not farmyard stills, but normally comes in a smaller can for $1.50, so Alcides must be able to come home with a bulk supply to pour into his beer bottle empties. He samples quite a bit himself, too.

    Aurora has a stall in at least one other small town market on Mondays where she resells fruit and vegetables that they buy in Latacunga. The four order invoices that I added up for Alcides came to almost $600, which must be for businesses like hotels, hostels or perhaps schools in the smaller centres like Sigchos, Isinlivi, El Salado, etc; at 100% mark-up, he'll make as much on just those four orders as a teacher reportedly makes in month, not even counting his other trade and the beer and liquor sales. It seems out of proportion, even considering the cost of owning and maintaining his old second-hand bus and the bald tires he keeps replacing his flats with. He's one of the few people here that I'm pretty sure could afford the airfare if he ever had a mind to travel.

    Paulino and Elvia have the school trade plus whatever extra load of orders they can fill, a propane truck that supplies the area, diesel that they sell out of 55 gallon drums with a siphon, a teaching salary, a hostel that could be more successful than it is, and Paulino is a representative of Malingua Pamba at the Sigchos county legislature, plus whatever else they've got their fingers into. Both he and Alcides have land and herds of sheep and cattle.

    We've spoken of Ignacio at length already.  William is in veterinary college but also uses his contacts to locate livestock for slaughter at a profit, and is eager to find a backer to invest in a taxi for which he would hire a driver and make sheer profit as a middleman (I refrained from asking him why the backer wouldn't simply buy the taxi and hire the driver himself!) In other words, it seems like the whole family has a lock on this school compound and is growing in power and wealth, somewhat at the expense of the surrounding community for whom the major form of assistance and largesse is Pam's foundation, Rotary International and Engineers Without Borders.

    As I write this, it is recess, and as crazy as ever despite our efforts to quash the behaviour on previous days, and Marcelo's - and Paulino's, the next day - warning speeches at lunch. The essential problem is that the teachers seem to consider recess their break as much as the kids, and none are on scheduled yard duty supervision as elementary teachers do in most other countries. Not one of them will patrol the yard and help us control the behaviour. There are kids racing up on the roof, which is covered with debris and a low wall around the edges; I am absolutely certain that a child will someday fall and kill him or herself from this roof. None of the teachers seem capable of catching kids who break the rules they've set, or providing consequences when they do, and it's gotten to the point that the students are simply mocking Deborah when she tries to enforce the rules the Director himself has set. The Director actually told the kids that water fights were only permissible if they were mutually agreed on! Can you imagine how kids "agree" on bullying each other with water balloons, mugs full of water, flour, stucco concrete dust and "carnival foam"?

    Clearly, I don't lay behaviour at the feet of the kids - kids are kids everywhere, and in a school setting their behaviour has to be guided and managed. Like the saying, "there are no bad dogs, only bad owners", there are (mostly) no bad children in schools, just mismanaged schools - and proper school management is a team effort that begins with the principal and requires the support and effort of all the staff. 

    Eventually Deb was worn out trying to fight the tide and finished the morning hiding out in the computer lab with me. She went out at one point and visited each of the classes to say good-bye and give each student a small Canada flag pin, fighting back a feeling that they didn't all really deserve a parting gift. It's been a fascinating glimpse into one tiny corner of the world, and we are glad we stuck it out just because it has been interesting, but it has been a tough slog in so many ways. Would we come back...hmm...well, not quite in a heartbeat, but we might consider visiting to see how things have grown and changed after a few years, knowing how the place has grown and how the gov't has become involved since Pam took it on, and as Paulino's political and community influence has grown.

    We got up at 3 a.m. but there were no lights on in Alcides' house and his bus didn't move, although he'd verified with us just before bed that we'd be riding with him. Suddenly Elvia and Paulino came in and told us we'd be riding in with Paulino at 5:30, so we could go back to sleep and wake him up at 5:15 to go and get his shower - he saw a doctor yesterday, has to do tests today, and an X-ray tomorrow. Deb knocked at his door and heard voices inside the room, so she thought he was up, but he wasn't. We were downstairs, packed and ready, and he hadn't appeared. Suddenly his brother, mother and sister-in-law raced up in his truck and began cleaning out the back, and they woke him up again.

    While we waited for him to take a fast shower, two of Alcides' kids got up in the dark pre-dawn and ran over to say goodbye, and the older one, whose name I forget although he's one of the nicest kids in the school, tied a bracelet of woven coloured threads around our wrists, a nice parting gesture. We hit the road at 6:16 and Paulino drove the truck like a rally driver, trying to make his 7:30 appointment. He was only five minutes late - we made the outskirts of Latacunga in one hour and 13 minutes, which he claimed was a record for him. It's normally a two and a half hour drive. What a white-knuckle ride it was! The views were spectacular (Deb avoided the ones that looked straight down) except for when the rising sun hit the dusty windshield and not one of the three of us in the cab could see anything. Llamingos and dogs ran across the road in front of us, oncoming cars and trucks swerved out of our way, and in one spot a burro with two packs had escaped from his owner, probably taking objection to her switch, and was preceding her down the hill at a trot on his own, staying carefully just beyond her reach. And suddenly, before we knew it, we were back in Latacunga, and here we are, back at Hostal Tiana.

    I think I'll end with a groaner I thought of one day last week and forgot to tell: the slopes are so sleep they're like Black Diamond ski slopes. The cows manage to stay on their feet, however. Making them Black Diamond cows. So now you know where Black Diamond Cheese comes from...ba-dum!

Next: Back to Quito, staying at the Belmont

Luis, the Saviour of Baby Hummingbirds

    Tomorrow (Thursday) is our last day here, and the students' last day in school. Their term break will last from Friday until Feb 18th, and will include the days of Mardi Gras and the final festival. Here's a final photo album and the tale of how the last two days have gone with hardly any contract teachers in the school.

    Tuesday: the craziness never really ends; it just takes different forms. On Monday at the end of the school day, we suddenly got word that the teachers without permanent contracts had achieved a settlement, and would not be here on Tuesday because they’d be in the city signing their new contracts, but that this was a process that might require as many as three or four days in some cases because they’d have to produce all kinds of paperwork. Later that evening Paulino told us that it was not easy to be a teacher, that some who were from districts who hadn’t voted for the president would not even be hired. He said, “This isn’t really a democracy, you know.”

    The Director Marcelo was caught off guard and hadn’t even had time to send a letter home to the parents. (I’m guessing he should have had a letter ready in anticipation of a settlement, mind you.) He had no idea how he was going to handle all the kids single-handedly the next day. We presented an idea to him of how to use the older students to work with and supervise the younger ones, and assured him we’d be there all day to help as well for which he was grateful. As it turned out, we also had the teacher Bolivar, which helped; that made four of us. Paulino was there as well, but he was hosting the visit of some social security visitors and conducting a meeting for them with people from various villages in his county.

    Late Monday afternoon we worked in the computer lab and let the boys – Bolivar, Roberto, Hernan, and Luis - into the lab to enjoy a little Facebook and Youtube time. Suddenly I spotted something fluttering in front of Bolivar’s monitor. He had a nest with two baby green hummingbirds in front of him. We explained that this wasn’t a kind thing to do, to steal two little birds from their mother. He said, “Oh, Luis stole the nest.” Of course, Luis, easily influenced, had given it to Bolivar. Luis is a somewhat sweet and simple grade 6 student, tall for his age, who cannot read or write, and watches cartoons that normally appeal to younger kids.  From appearances, he might have an above average awareness of nature.

    The boys were very resistant to the idea of giving up their little living toys, but we insisted, got quite fierce about it, and after arguing with them and getting nowhere, we simply ordered Luis to take me to where he’d found the nest so we could put it back and hope that the mother would find them before dark. Bolivar and Roberto began to accompany us, and Bolivar hung over Luis’ shoulder, whispering in his ear, thinking I didn’t understand, but he didn’t realize that body language also speaks. I stopped and ordered them back to the lab while I continued with Luis alone. Again, they were extremely resistant, and when they finally left us Bolivar shot a final instruction at Luis. Luis and I continued a very short distance further and then Luis pointed to the low branches of a sort of scrub cedar and swore that’s where he’d found the nest, and the mother would be sure to return for them there. So we left the nest there, and Luis, looking scared, said he had to go home.

    I returned to the computer lab, but Bolivar and Roberto didn’t. I knew something was up, so we locked up shortly afterward, and as we walked back to the hostel I watched for him and spotted him handling something. When he saw that I was watching him he stuffed the something into the branches of a nearby bush. It was clear that he’d told Luis where to leave the nest so he could find it again. I walked straight to him, not in a rush, reached in, and brought out the nest. By now I was becoming really angry, for the risk to the baby hummingbirds as night approached, and the dishonesty and lack of respect that the boys were demonstrating. Deb and I scolded him severely, said that absolutely for sure this would be reported to his parents, and told him how ashamed he should be for being so cruel, selfish and dishonest when he was the “President” of his school. (It bothered me a little that I was scolding a kid whose Mom would kill a chicken and have it prepped and on our plates in a half hour flat, for not caring about two tiny birds, but I ignored that thought.)

    I took the nest once again and walked up the hill, much further this time, and found a place in the high branches of a bush that camouflaged them quite well – the same timbre of green. I returned, still incensed, and after a while their cousin Hernan came to apologise for his part in the lie. He called to Roberto, who came and apologised, and to Bolivar who was still hanging back but finally came and also apologised. They tried to convince us that it was Luis’ fault, that he liked to kill birds, that he would catch and eat hummingbirds, and that he was afraid because his mother was very fierce. I told him that was ridiculous, if Luis would try to eat them the baby birds were so tiny they’d get stuck in his teeth.

    Deb spent a long time delivering a lesson about taking care of God’s creatures, like his older brother William who is studying to be a veterinarian, and about caring for the environment, and about how the mother needed to cover her babies from the cold at night as well as to feed them, and we humans had no ability to provide food that hummingbird babies can eat, so by stealing them from the mother, we were actually killing them, which was a crime against God. They finally seemed to get it, but I had no confidence that the two little birds would be alive by morning.

    Still, in the morning I took Luis, with Marcelo’s permission, up the hill to see if they had survived. He went straight to the tree where he’d left them the night before, and was shocked to find the nest missing – looked all around, and below on the ground. Apparently he hadn’t realized that Bolivar had intentionally duped him into leaving them there so that Bolivar could retrieve them later. I told him to follow me further up the hill to the higher location I’d left them in. Amazingly, although the wind overnight had blown the bush to the point where it even looked different, one bird was still in the nest and with a little search on the ground below, Luis found the other one. Both were a bit energetic, trying to flap their little wings although they were still days away from being able to fly, and probably quite hungry by now. They’d probably survived on the warmth of the nest, which contained bits of cloth and their mother’s down, as well as each other.

    Luis led me up over the hill and pointed down an 80 degree cultivated hill into the next valley, to where he’d originally found the nest. He volunteered to go on his own, probably quite aware that it would be a difficult descent and an even worse ascent for me. I agreed, and he went bounding down the hill holding the nest carefully in his hands, through one gully and on to the further one, where he climbed a bit and reached up into a bush on the gully wall.  He spent some time carefully securing the nest back in its original location. I took photos of the safe return of the little birds, and Luis climbing back up the hill.

    When we got back to the classroom, we reported with pleasure that the birds had survived the night, and that they were safely back where the mother would find them and care for them once again. We built Luis up as the Saviour of the Baby Hummingbirds, and told the class that when they saw a beautiful green hummingbird flying around in coming months, they would know that this was the one of the hummingbirds that Luis had saved, and that they should remember The Story of Luis and the Two Hummingbirds for a long time, even when they were grown up. Then we played several rounds of Twister in English.

    That evening Paulino returned with an indigenous leader of the Kitchwa, someone Paulino assured us was a much more powerful person than any elected politician or government official, and his wife and entourage of two, perhaps a friend and/or a driver and younger bodyguard. He didn’t look terribly powerful, and he didn’t speak Spanish much, but he took the time to tell me that the Quechua live in Peru, and that his people here are known as the Kitchwa, with more of an “ee” than an “eh” sound. (Mind you, that could be local accent or dialect, because I’ve heard Josefina say “No si” instead of “No se”, as well. Maybe e’s become i’s locally.) Eventually the group headed back to the city and Paulino spent a little time describing his dealings with a group of thieves who’d recently been caught, after an exciting chase, according to Elvia. Alicides came over, Bolivar the teacher joined us, there was some Pilsener happening, and Bolivar had me taste some “cane liquor” that was basically clear, over-proof rum, but actually quite tasty and with a slight effervescence to it.

    On Tuesday we reported early at the school to help Marcelo, and Bolivar as it turned out, supervise “cafecito” for the students who arrive early for some nutrition before school starts. There was a cauldron of hot drink mixed up from a powder enriched with vitamins, calcium and iron, and a cereal bar for each student.

    An interesting point that will have my colleagues shaking their heads: the Director Marcelo was further unprepared for this absence of teachers which appears to resemble a walk-out, basically, although not a strike action per se, since the official reason is that it will take them some days to get signed up with their new contracts. Marcelo had no master ring of keys to open the library and the computer lab, etc. Luckily Rosa’s classroom door had been left open, unlike one previous time when she’d been absent and hadn’t left her only door key. This time, the teachers had taken Paulino’s keys with them, and Bolivar seems to have lost the “school president” set that he used to carry around.  Marcelo said that he’d lost his own set as well. We were stymied until it suddenly clicked that there were two additional small keys on the piece of red yarn that our hostel room key was on that were about the right size and shape for the padlocks, so I tried them, and voila! We were in.

    We wandered around looking to see where we should pitch in, but every class, from the tens down to the ones, was working in notebooks and workbooks, extremely well behaved. There seemed little point upsetting the apple cart, so we began our day in the computer lab. Recess arrived, however, and lasted too long. And the students, who’ve been “practicing” for “carnival” for two weeks already (it doesn’t actually happen until February) began chasing each other all over the schoolyard and the roof of the schoolhouse with mugs and bowls full of water, spray cans full of “carnival foam”, flour, and water balloons. Sometimes they make a mess inside the classrooms, chasing each other in there as well. Deb turned into the dragon lady, and we managed to put the lid on it between the two of us, with no effort from the other two teachers. At one point Deb discovered that the “flour” a student was using was actually stucco cement he’d swiped from the construction workers in the next building.

    After recess we had a shortened time with the grade sevens in the computer lab, and just after we’d started with them, Josefina came rushing in and insisted that we come home for lunch right away, at noon. We protested that we’d just started, the lesson time was much more important than the convenience of her lunch schedule, and so on; however, she just insisted that if we didn’t come now, the food would be cold and that they’d be leaving right away for Latacunga. She said, “teach them tomorrow!” It was frustrating, but we decided we could leave the nine grade sevens alone for a few minutes in the lab, rush across the street to eat, and return in a hurry. Josefina wasn’t there. Elvia said the students would be fine without us, but I had my doubts – just as we were leaving, eighteen grade eights showed up insisting that it was their turn in the lab. We had told them earlier that we would work with them next, but we had just got started with the sevens and we had to go to lunch, so we apologised but insisted that they return to their room and wait until we could come and get them. They left finally left with terrible sulking and scowls on their faces that looked like trouble to me.

    Sure enough, we got back to find that the grade eight boys had bullied their way into the lab and forced the grade sevens out. Once again, I was furious at the lack of respect, and yelled at them all to leave – they don’t get teachers yelling at them much here, which may help to explain the lack of discipline and stubbornness of some of the students. Marcelo the director is an old softie, and there doesn’t seem to be any form of discipline for any infraction. 

    After we got the sevens back to the class, we went down to the grade eight class and invited about a third of them, mostly girls, who’d obeyed our wishes and stayed working in their classroom, up to the lab. We told the boys and a couple of girls who’d been with them that they weren’t welcome because they were dishonest and disrespectful, and didn’t deserve to be in the lab being taught by us. They hung around the door, sometimes banging on it, acting entirely angry, whiny and petulant, some giving us puppy-dog eyes, others petulant scowls, and they seemed to believe I would relent, but I was unmoved. I was secretly pleased that we didn’t have to work three to a machine anyway, and be constantly kicking sneaky boys off the machines for opening Facebook instead of studying duolingo with us.

    At the end of the morning when they lined up for lunch we had a word with Marcelo, who stood them at attention and chewed them all out for their behaviour and their disrespect to the “voluntarios”, reminding them that we communicate with the “Madrina Pamelita”. He forbade them to play at “carnival” tomorrow. In a situation like this in a Canadian school, administrators can make that call based on the safety of the students with insufficient supervision, so Deb and I suggested it to him, being a little “up to here” with the behaviour of the students during the second half of the morning. He and Bolivar discussed whether they could ask the students to stay home tomorrow until their teachers returned, but decided they couldn’t, and decided to take a chance and hope that the speech would make a difference. We’ll see…

    In the late afternoon a new guy arrived. He’s a 28 year old fellow named Dustin Tosi , whose home is in Alaska.  He showed up out of the blue with a red beard and a shaved head, having learned about the school and hostel online. He’d tried to email Pam but hadn’t had a reply, but after two months in Colombia he’d spent a few days at the Llullu Llama hostel in Isinlivi and decided to show up here and teach for a while. He left Alaska at the age of 18 and worked in Taiwan teaching for ten years, mostly English, using computers for educational purposes (Yeah! Definitely need him for that here!) and high school math, which will please Paulino who asked me for a little algebra coaching when I’d arrived, but I was reluctant to strain my brain over the language barrier. Now that I’ve taught in Spanish a bit, I might be more willing to try. 

    Poor Dustin’s timing is a little off, however: he has two more days to help us keep the lid on at the school, maybe the weekend to meet the colegio students and staff, and then he has to find some way to entertain himself until school starts up again on February 18th. He says he might head to Cuenca and come back when he can be useful, but in the meantime we’ll see what he’s made of, helping us to keep the lid on here for the next two days.

    Wednesday morning: so far so good, Dustin is happy to begin his day here with Rosa’s grade 2/3/4’s, who were about to endure their second day with no teacher and no supervision. He’s a hit with the kids, since Marcelo hadn’t followed through with our suggestion yesterday that he assign the six responsible grade 9’s to take care of them for at least half the morning, two per grade.

    I managed to collect the right sequence of photos for a slideshow that we showed the whole school in the computer lab, in three sessions back-to-back. The grade 8's were forgiven, and got themselves some computer time, including Facebook and Youtube access after they'd worked a sufficient amount of time on Duolingo. The behaviour has been much better today, since yesterday’s speech at the end of the day, and Deb’s dragon-lady impersonation, and the fact that I clamped down tightly today at the first evidence of water balloons and foam – created a collection of confiscated spray cans in the library, reducing one boy to tears until I convinced him that I’d return them after school is over. Paulino decided that will be after the end of term is over, i.e. tomorrow rather than today. I'd collected seven this morning, plus a few water balloons and a mug of water that was about to be thrown. Dustin also told the kids he wouldn't stand for it, which helped, because they are fascinated by him - he's very cool because he can do kung fu (from Taiwan), magic tricks and knows lots of other games children like. Haven’t seen any flour or stucco concrete powder today either, thank goodness.

    At recess Paulino called a staff meeting to present Deb’s politely delivered suggestion of a master ring of keys for Marcelo never to let go of, and a back-up even for that. We talked about completing the library culling, and requiring the assistance of the elementary teachers to move that forward, because they're the only ones who can decide which books at their levels should remain, and which should go.

    We also spoke about the difficulty of volunteer visitors who want to teach and manage classes but have no way to manage discipline and not enough back-up from the regular teachers. Hasn't been a major issue for us because we have a combined sixty odd years of experience in classrooms, but the pre-"carnival" behaviour was way out of hand, and has been for over a week, until we got fierce about it yesterday.

    The teachers who were present, including Rosa's husband who showed up mid-morning to cover her class, thanked us for our suggestions and our efforts at the school.

    One more day to keep the lid on before the end of term vacation begins...

Next: Parthian arrows

Low Points and High Points in the Andes

    There are two photo albums here.  The first is of our trip to the Market in Latacunga, and the second is of the colegio dance performance to entertain those who'd been kind enough to buy their raffle tickets and attend the draw, often from quite a distance. The fundraiser was to get enough money to go to Esmeraldas on a school trip, which they are all extremely excited about. Mountain kids will get to see the coast, the ocean, and the beaches that are another part of their country.

    The photos are full of colour and sometimes humour. I think you'll enjoy being transported to Latacunga and Malingua Pamba for a few minutes. It kills me to decide which photos to delete to make a slideshow that's short enough to be comfortable, because they all feel so fascinating and amusing to me. It's an agonizing proces.

    I will begin by saying that the Latacunga trip wasn't our idea, and I was reluctant; it isn't like I haven't been to rural markets all over the world before, and although I'd happily go there as a short adventure while staying over in Latacunga, I knew it would turn into a long day of travel and waiting around all day for about one hour of photography. And it did. Paulino and Elvia said, "Would you like to come to the market with us tomorrow? Oh, by the way, if you choose to stay home, there won't be any meals because we can't find anyone willing to come in and cook for you." Huh...? What about that string of other women who'd been doing it up until now? And who will be cooking for the boys?

    Both of them do work awfully hard and long days; this entire weekend Paulino has been out of sight - "selling gas" is the constant explanation (is he branching out into another line of business? Is that what the $9,000 loan application was for? No se...), and is only now completing delivery of purchases for the schools in the canton that he made on Friday, and that's after a lot of destinations were covered by shipping the groceries to them by bus. Elvia says she couldn't get anyone to cook, and couldn't get people to help her in the market either, even though she offers $10 for the day. Mind you, it's a long day and the official minimum wage works out to about $2 an hour ($4,000/year), so maybe she's underpaying. I do believe from what I saw loaded on the truck and not sorted into bins for the school that there's business over and above the school food - nothing wrong with that, of course, might as well combine time and gas costs. But I'm guessing they're also pinching every penny instead of spreading the wealth by delegating and paying others to help them accomplish this mountain of work.

    It was a stupidly long 17 hour day that included sleeping in the bus and napping in the truck at the bus terminal, waiting for Paulino who never did appear, and then waiting for William who after positioning his truck and getting Elvia and Enma to distribute the various school bins to the various buses that showed up (I helped carry a few sacks and bins), took off to his house for two hours while we contined to wait for our return trip to Malingua Pamba. That very long wait, that I can't believe they couldn't have anticipated and been honest about with us, was one of the low points mentioned in my title.

    One silver lining is that we fed ourselves like a king and queen at the market on the same daily amount of money we were supposedly paying Elvia. (Pam has recently insisted that because of the amount of work we've been doing for her and the awkwardness of having it out with Elvia over the menu, she prefers to pay for our stay and take our notes to a discussion with Elvia when she arrives here in April.) The ladies asked us several pointed questions about what we'd eaten and what we'd paid, and Josefina insisted we'd actually overpaid for a great meal! And the upshot is that meals have been considerably better through the balance of the weekend, with the inclusion of eggs and chicken at least twice a day. The chicken is always tough and undercooked, leading to intestinal gas, but at least it's animal protein.

    When William finally returned we set out, only to encounter a police roadblock and check stop of some kind. Oh, oh! He didn't have a licence, wouldn't have one for another four months...so that's why they'd kept asking me if I could drive a truck! I was reluctant, especially after remembering I'd left my Canadian driver's licence at home, with no expectation that I'd have to rent a vehicle or drive one for someone else. If caught, William expected he'd have to pay $200 to the corrupt cops right on the spot to avoid jail time. 

    After pretending we were taking a pee break beside the road, and then pretending we were just tourists taking photos, we caught an incredibly lucky break when two construction workers in a little truck drove up and opened the barrier of a closed road we'd parked beside. They instantly comprehended William's situation and waved him through the barrier with them, and from there we took windy, bumpy back roads through potholes filled with water, past villages, and finally found our way out onto the Pan-American highway after the roadblock. William was relieved and elated, and crowed about outwitting the "Polichivatos" - the "goat police", an expression related to the old English one about tugging the beard of the old goat, who represents any authority figure.

    Saturday was pleasant. The colegio is in the middle of exams, but we got one class registered and running with duolingo.com, which we hope they'll continue to use after we're gone to acquire more English than we can provide them with in this short visit. We arranged email addresses for a lot of them so they could register.

    On Sunday we managed the same thing with two more classes, but in one of them a few students walked out on the class when they realized we were completely serious about using all machines for academic purposes only during class time, and they couldn't get away with opening their Facebook windows every few seconds! A twenty minute recess turned into an hour, there was only one teacher (out of four) in the building and he was hiding out alone in his room with his laptop. The kids were going nuts chasing each other, banging doors, throwing water at each other from all directions, and squirting cans of shaving cream on each other - practicing for "Carnival" someone explained (which isn't until February!). 

    They were very excited about the dance presentation and raffle they were going to present in the afternoon, but I wasn't convinced that the teachers couldn't have kept the lid on if they'd been there to manage the situation. Ignacio returned and I suggested with some mild annoyance that if they really expected Pam's foundation to assist with the costs of their Esmeraldas trip, they ought to be a bit more serious about studying and teaching when that was supposed to be going on. He did a bit of scolding, including being upset about the water and shaving cream in the classrooms, and we ended the morning well with all six networked computers being used for language study and nothing else. He promised that those who'd walked out on the class would be disciplined, but I'll only believe that if I see it with my own eyes, I'm afraid.

    The dance performance was probably the "High Point in the Andes" for us during our stay here. The colegio kids, most of whom we've come to know to some degree in the classrooms, did a great job of presenting traditional dances and humorous skits in traditional costumes, not for tourists but for their own community, in grateful appreciation of their families who were supporting their fundraising effort for their school trip.

    One of the highlights of the afternoon that split guts all through the courtyard was when one of the chickens held up to demonstrate that particular raffle prize took exception to being put back in the cardboard box and made a dash for freedom. The kids chased him all over the schoolyard while the parents and teachers howled with laughter. I couldn't zoom and focus the camera fast enough to catch the action, just the final act of stuffing him back in the box. That was the Premio Pollo, the prize chicken, that we ate for supper - Paulino won the second place draw, which included three chickens. Elvia's mother won the first place prize, which included the young goat.  It was a little odd to me that the draw prizes went to the richest people in the village.  The prizes also included three rabbits (conejos), three guinea pigs (cuyes), a couple of fine wool blankets and a dish or pot set called a vajilla - I didn't get to see what was actually in that parcel.

    A couple of days ago we had it out with Ignacio, who had come to believe that the constant presence of our camera and our frequent communication with Pam had blamed him for deficiencies at the school, some of which he insisted were a government matter and not a community matter. We managed to convince him, finally, that our purpose wasn't to blame, but to be eyes and ears for Pam and the people he expected to continue sending money and talent to help improve his community, including the school, the hostel, the irrigation and potable water system, etc. Some people feel very uncomfortable under a spotlight, and I recognised that, but couldn't let him get away with imagining that anyone from any part of the world would simply hand out cash with no oversight and no expectations of how their gifts would be stewarded, like winning some sort of lottery. Bottom line is, if you respect and appreciate what you've been given, you show that by taking care of it; and if you want to largesse to continue, you co-operate willingly with the process of deciding in what ways that money could be most effectively used. That was a difficult conversation, and Deb bore the brunt of his onslaught because she could (barely!) keep up with his Spanish, while I simply played tough guy through translation. He came to the gunfight fully loaded - he'd even looked up the word "hurt" in English to make sure he could get his point across! I managed to convince him that others (Eden, Pam) could feel equally hurt if their gifts were not respected and cared for.

    All in all, a weekend to feel positive about, which included lots of chores for Pam as well. We got a good start on culling the library, cleaning and making space on the shelves, did some basic accountancy training with the irrigation board at Tunguiche, felt good about launching duolingo with most of the college students, and so on. I believe we'll spend our four remaining days just teaching what we can to the elementary kids before we leave for Latacunga at 3 a.m. on Friday morning and back to Quito on Saturday.

Next: Baby Hummingbirds

The Ferengi have landed in the Andes! But there's a Lili in the valley...

    Last night's dinner didn't include a cup of tea, so I got out my instant coffee and made myself of cup. Perhaps that was a mistake. I slept well but woke up in the middle of the night, along with a rooster, who keeps yelling "Who the heck are you!" to a rival a distance away. I heard the 4:30 a.m. bus heading from El Salado to Latacunga, and in a while I'll hear what I once thought, in a fog of sleep, was someone drawing water at a rusty hand pump outside, until I realized it was a burro up the hill from us. Then as the earliest risers begin to move about the school site, we'll hear the dogs start up.

    I have to create a list of menu deficiencies for the lady that runs the hostel. Having been here long enough to know what food items cost in the markets and what a decent $2 chicken dinner tastes like and consists of in the restaurant around the corner from the Hostal Tiana in Latacunga (soup, rice, salad, good hunk of chicken right off the rotating spit, and fruit juice), we have been surprised to be fed meals here that must cost less than half that standard. The restauranteur covers his cost of food and his overhead on those prices, and so we'd expect that a buck for breakfast and $2 each for lunch and dinner would keep us fed in a similar manner. That's half of what our hostel charge is; the other half goes to a fund for upkeep.

    We've had daily disappointments with regard to meals, however. Elvia has returned and breakfast and lunch have been okay, but Deb's been keeping a meal diary since she got sick. Examples of substandard fare include a supper that was an hour late and was nothing more than a plate of noodles with a thin cheese sauce, and a supper plate that consisted of a pile of thirteen boiled potatoes with two thumb sized pieces of beef that are barely more than gristle and shoe leather, very hard to chew, with a bit of onion.  Except for a some boiled chicken that was rubbery and undercooked last night (I got a slender leg in my soup), that beef is what we've been served for the past four meals, ever since we complained about the lack of animal protein. Until then we'd had a stretch of at least four days of no meat at all, and now that we've been getting bits of beef, we are disturbed to see that the uncooked portion remains sitting on the kitchen counter, uncovered, open to the flies, and attracting the cat and the dogs that we are constantly trying to shoo out of the hostel dining room. Deb spotted the meat on the counter and put it in the frig last night. There's fish, the stuff I showed in the last blog that we bought from the snack ladies on the weekend; Elvia's kids get it, but we don't. And it's not like we can vote with our feet; Elvia's kitchen is the only game in town.  We can't step across to the competing restaurant across the street, or buy our own groceries anywhere.

    We've asked for "avena" (oatmeal) for breakfast, especially when Deb got sick; we got it maybe three times. An egg for breakfast has happened about fifty percent of the time, but the chickens seem to be laying less in the past week. I supply my own coffee. Maybe the eggs can be sold for cash, so they aren't really for us. The pig that we saw slaughtered over a week ago certainly wasn't. We don't get the lovely buns that Aurora bakes but probably sells for cash - I see the school kids selling them at recess some days, but I've only had two since we arrived. 

    The breakfast fruit situation has declined in the past week, except for fried plantain, a cheap staple (sometimes we get papaya and cut up banana in addition to the fried banana, but Deb can't eat the papaya so I have to eat hers as well as my own).  Occasionally we get popcorn for breakfast, which I actually like, but it isn't very nutritious. Usually there has been a mug of juice, or tea, but yesterday's lunch juice was too acidic to drink even with sugar added (some kind of "tree tomato"), and there was no tea or juice at supper, which is why I made the unfortunate mistake of making myself a coffee.

    There are usually two starches at lunch and dinner, sometimes also at breakfast - one always potato, the other noodles or rice, but the rice has been gradually more and more "al dente" and undercooked lately, as if the ladies are in a terrible rush to get the food prep over with. There are not many veggies. 

    There has been a succession of ladies in the kitchen to replace Elvia, who has been driving back and forth to town with Paulino all week: Josefina, Aurora, Marta, Sonia and two or three others who don't seem to be as concerned with elements of the meals or with kitchen clean-up and hygiene as even she would wish.  She and Paulino both complained about that when they got back, and her own standards aren't that high. On weekends we've been asked to take our lunches at the Colegio cafeteria so she doesn't have to leave classes - good for her for being committed to an education, but the food there is also pretty sparse, being what they feel they can afford to serve in bulk to the students; mostly soup broth and rice.  The students only get protein in their lunch if they purchase it from the snack ladies at recess, which for us would be more expense on top of the $10/day that we are already paying for our keep.

    It seems that in spite of what we are doing for Pam, Rotary, EWB, and for the students of the school and the colegio seven days a week, Elvia must be thinking to herself, "What's in it for me?", or "How can I make a good profit on this?" On top of our "tour" experience with Ignacio and some other little things I've noticed with this little family dynasty - the only people who live on site, apparently - I've begun to wonder if there isn't a streak of Ferengi genetics running through the family.  The fact that we could just walk away from all of this doesn't seem to factor into her calculations.

    On the other hand, there's Lautaro, who seems a pretty good sort of guy.  Some of the teachers seem like they'd fit right in at the Toronto school board (George for sure, Bolivar probably), with the stark exception of Manuela - the "English" teacher who left her grade seven students with pages of English phrases to copy and memorize for a test the next day, and then walked out of the classroom. The poor kids have no dictionaries and have not had the phrases translated for them. The words are nothing but squiggles on a page to them. 

    No wonder they don't know any English after years of having it on their schedule! They must hate the darn subject. The grade sevens have seven periods of Ingles a week on their schedule, and barely know seven words of vocabulary. Manuela has never approached us to sound out whether we might be a resource for her; now I understand why. She's probably too embarrassed. Lili asked us whether Manuela can speak good English; I had to say, "No se", because she's never spoken a word to us...I refrained from saying, "it's one thing to know how to speak English; it's another thing altogether to know how to teach".

    On the day when the exam was scheduled, Manuela stayed home.  The grade 7's had three Ingles periods on their schedule, so we spent the morning with them, creating email addresses and getting them registered and started on duolingo.com.  After recess we taught them to make the paper fortune tellers with English words on them that have to be spelled out aloud with the letter of the alphabet in English. We chose eight colours, eight familiar animals that they see wandering around the pueblo every day, and eight compliments with words that are similar enough in Spanish to be easily understood (i.e. cognates). Grades five to seven love them; Bolivar has just brought his over to Deborah here in the hostel this afternoon to practice it with her.

    Manuela wasn't the only person missing today. The lady that makes the lunch for the whole school has another job. I don't know whether she gets paid for both when she doesn't show up here, as teachers do, but she didn't come, and the kids had to go straight home without their usual almuerzo.

    And then there's Lili and her early childhood centre, the subject of some of the photos in this slideshow. Lili stays over in the room across from us in the hostel most nights. She is a devoted, light-hearted, kind and loving teacher who is trying to be as professional as possible in running a still-revolutionary sort of learning environment in Ecuador, a rural centre for early childhood education and care. 

    Lili has to work in a building that is under construction and endures constant pounding outside her door and above her head. The kids don't look that happy in the classroom; I'm guessing they're suffering from PTSD, literally shell-shocked from the incessant loud banging around them. There are no washroom facilities, so she can't bathe them except with a cold standpipe outside her door, and they come from farmhouses where there are no bathing facilities. Pam had showers built in the Edificio Grande that was photographed in an earlier blog, but they are non-functional. 

    Lili does what she can: I watched the motheres counting out flat beans onto papers with squares to teach counting; they have scissors and paper and glue and manipulatives, and they teach the kids language and songs, and more than that - Lili knows and and can explain the pedagogy behind what she's doing. She loves the songs because they cover language, pitch, movement, large and fine motor development (the actions), rhythm and awareness of time, and emotive development, among other benefits.  She gets the kids outside and gets a little laughter and joy bubbling out of them to counter the effects of the pounding.

    Today's photo album is short, and has some elementary kids and some colegio kids, but it is mostly about - and devoted to - Lili and her students.  There was a hidden photo album that included photos for Pam to illustrate how the people on site have not been maintaining or even using the beautiful new facilities that she has provided for them with money from U.S. donors - the showers that remain broken and unused, the hot water on demand systems that provide no heat for the showers while the rooms are used for construction storage.  When I reviewed and edited this blog, I decided to make them visible.  Unfortunately there's some overlap in the photos, but if you've already seen one you can click quickly to the next one.

    Tomorrow Elvia and Paulino tell us there will be no-one available to prepare meals for us (we wonder who will be preparing food for her sons), so they will have to take us to town with them, and the students will to have to do without us for the day.  We will have to get up at 3:30 a.m. to go into town on Alcides' bus; we'll experience the market with Elvia, and purchase our meals in town. 

    We hope the Tunguiche irrigation board will show after 2 p.m., when we return, to have their books audited. They've been avoiding us for ten days now, it seems. We're still trying to organize a library minga and a computer graveyard minga...next week, ojala. (Ojala "o-hala" - is an Arabic word meaning "I hope" - can you hear the "Allah" in the word? Not every Spanish speaker knows that...)

Next: low and high points in the Andes